


rejoice in suffering

by bullseye



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Baskerville (Alucard's familiar), Bestiality, Biting, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Clothed Sex, Double Penetration, Fear Play, Humiliation, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Self-Esteem Issues, Situational Humiliation, Size Kink, Trans Male Character, Verbal Humiliation, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28968477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bullseye/pseuds/bullseye
Summary: Alucard decides to take a little trip to Rome after the museum fight-that-wasn't and teach Maxwell just why he shouldn't insult Sir Hellsing.
Relationships: Alexander Anderson/Enrico Maxwell, Alucard/Enrico Maxwell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	rejoice in suffering

**Author's Note:**

> self-indulgence is the best kind of indulgence. it's free too. take that, medieval popes!

Alucard materialized, as usual, from the wall—in front of Maxwell, sending him stumbling backwards. This was his office in Vatican City and he'd only just walked in the door expecting some peace and quiet and the comfort of home. What on earth was this dreadful vampire doing here? It'd taken him a good few hours to fly back home after lingering further in London (he'd always wanted an excuse to visit but couldn't justify the travel expense to a Protestant hellhole) and now it was nighttime in Rome. This made Alucard even more dangerous than he had been in the museum, if such a thing was possible.

"Hey." It was almost impressive how much contempt and disgust Alucard could pack into one syllable. Centuries of practice, most likely, and in any other setting Maxwell might appreciate the technique of it. But in this setting the monster was pointing two long-barreled guns square at his face and closing in on him.

With trembling hands he took off his gloves and placed them in his pockets, trying to give off an air of nonchalance more to reassure himself than anything. "What more does Hellsing want? I shared all the information we have about Millennium—"

"I decided I couldn't just let your insult slide." The vampire grinned wide, with more teeth than possible, and Maxwell involuntarily took a step back. This brought him bumping up against his desk—cornered already. Where was Anderson?

"Before you get any funny ideas," Alucard said, close enough now to press a cold steel muzzle up beneath Maxwell's chin. "Your beloved dog of a priest is well out of earshot. Sent him on something of a wild goose chase." His grin grew wider somehow, as though he were laughing at a joke.

"Y-you can't kill me." Despite doing his best to steady his voice Maxwell couldn't stop it from cracking.

Alucard's laugh was loud and terrible in his ears. "What makes you think I would grant you the dignity of a private death?" Before the last word was out the vampire's head was falling, a writhing darkness growing from that ancient body, and Maxwell knew that whatever was coming would be worse than he could imagine.

He bolted, forcing himself to run—maybe he could jump out the window behind them, they were only on the second story—but before he could take even three steps something wrapped around his ankle and yanked him down, the impact of his fall shocking the breath out of him. He scrabbled at the floor, desperate, fingernails barely catching on anything, as his other ankle was caught in the same roiling grip. _Foolish_ , a voice echoed in his head, and with his heart pounding loud in his ears Maxwell couldn't tell if it was his own thought or the vampire invading even his mind. He tried to push himself up with shaky arms, tried to look behind him—

It was as though he were above a great chasm, so dark was the world around him now. Then the eyes opened. Dozens of them, hundreds, thousands, all crimson, and beneath them rows upon rows of massive fangs, slavering and dripping onto the enormous clawed feet that held his legs firmly in place—

Alucard cackled over the sound of Maxwell's shrieking. "Yes! Let me hear you cry, let me see you piss yourself, yes!"

God, how had it come to this? The holy leader of Section 13 sobbing and groveling on the floor of his own office, captive to one of the damned creatures this very organization was supposed to be exterminating? There was no question in his mind that Alucard wanted to see him suffer and would stop short of nothing to make it as excruciating as possible, which only fueled the raw fear coursing through his quivering body. Anderson's absence meant that this wing of the building was empty since the sleeping quarters for Father Renaldo and the lower-ranking priests were far on the other side of the grounds and Yumiko and Heinkel had been dispatched on a formal mission the day before. It wouldn't matter how loud he screamed but he couldn't help it, he'd never been this close to something so monstrous with a mouth like Hell's gates open wide over his body, and he hated himself for it but what else could he do? He was completely helpless against Alucard, powerless, and the knowledge of it churned sharp in his stomach.

The demon leaned more of its weight onto him, or maybe it was getting bigger, it was hard for him to see through the tears, but wasn't there a a new eye emerging, one that was a different kind of red and oh no that wasn't an eye, no no no that was something else, something he didn't want to believe—

"No! You wouldn't dare!" He strained again to pull himself away, fingertips chafing raw against the cold floor as he twisted his body around to try and throw off the hound. "You're violating the treaty! Just by being here you're violating it! I'll report this—"

Alucard materialized his face from the void in front of Maxwell just to smirk at him. "No, you won't."

The vampire was right. God curse the creature. He wouldn't dare debase himself by telling anybody about even being threatened with demonic defilement, let alone actually being subjected to it. Instead he'd have to take on this unspeakable sin, so far beyond anything else he'd done in the name of the Lord—no. He had to escape. He had to gather himself, stop sniveling like the little boy he'd suppressed long ago, but even if he did how could he get out of this satanic grasp? Alucard's very presence here put the lie to his displays of power. But he had to try. Surely somehow he could still get away, and as though Alucard could read his mind there was a sudden movement behind him then a white-hot pain bloomed across his left shoulder. It took a few long seconds for what happened to register; had he been bitten? Yes, the massive hound had seized his shoulder in its mouth, fangs needle-sharp, and as what had to be blood began trickling warm down his arm he screamed again, the sound of it echoing in the dark room.

Without Anderson Maxwell was nothing and it disgusted him to even entertain the thought, he didn't need Anderson to be powerful, but even so there was shame tightening at the bottom of his throat and he couldn't stop the bile rising, he couldn't do a single damned thing but puke on the floor of his own office as though he'd been reduced to an animal dumb with fear.

"Took you long enough." Alucard leered, insects wriggling beneath his disembodied face as gruesome punctuation. "Keep your face down there where it belongs." His head vanished, dissolving into the darkness of his monstrous body.

After an agonizing few minutes the hold on Maxwell's shoulder weakened, the feeling of teeth shifting in his flesh making him heave again. There was nothing left for him to throw up, just acid, his stomach twisting and his throat raw. But as he was coughing the hound released him, legs and all, and maybe the vampire was finally satisfied so he could crawl away—something grabbed his neck from behind, pinning him down once more with his face in his own vomit. The hot breath of the demon gusted over him but the hold on his neck felt like a human hand, gloved—

He couldn't see it but even in the depths of despair he could guess at what must have been happening. Alucard had somehow reached through the dog's mouth and seized him with those cold undead fingers. It was already clear that Alucard could shapeshift to take on whatever form suited his purposes best but if he could simply manifest body parts however he liked there really was no way for Maxwell to escape the fate he'd been promised. Why keep struggling? Maybe if he acquiesced the injury would be less, for his body if not his pride.

"Oh? Not going to fight anymore?" Alucard's voice came from somewhere behind him. "Shame. You were just starting to put up a good show too. Well, there's still time for it to be fun again."

Maxwell took a deep, shaky breath as a warm heavy weight was placed on his back at the same time a light pressure began skittering around his waist. The hand around his neck was still there, and now he realized the feeling lower down was from fingers, dozens of them—how many hands could Alucard have? Pinned in place he couldn't look back anymore but he could imagine what it looked like, too many hands encircling his body like he was about to be dragged into Hell while an oversized dog cock rubbed against his back, and he couldn't stop a whimper from slipping out as he felt his trousers being ripped apart. The fabric tearing reverberated in his ears as the hound's breath came closer and hotter on his newly exposed skin.

Alucard murmured, "Ah...what a nice surprise." He materialized completely on the other side of Maxwell's desk, positioned just so that when the bishop was allowed to turn his head he saw the vampire looming over him.

As the hands pulled Maxwell's hips up, dragging his knees across the floor, something grew between his legs, pressing up against his crotch to mirror the weight still on his back. Damn that creature! Not content to get away with ravaging just one part of him, Alucard intended to fill him up completely with his hound's cocks. Surely the only reason there wasn't one bumping against his lips as well was because it would muffle any screams. Claws dug into his ankles again and what felt like surprisingly soft fur brushed against his thighs followed by what had to be the hound's tongue, huge and covered in unnaturally thick drool. He didn't want to try and imagine what kind of contortion it'd take for that to be possible while also being held tight beneath this terrible beast. One long lick up across his crotch, from clit to asshole, and the reality of the situation rushed back.

Staring out the window, showing no sign of acknowledging the renewed shrieking, Alucard said, "The moon.... You've got a nice view from your office."

Even if Maxwell had been able to hear him over his own screams he wouldn't have been able to respond, so overwhelming was the sensation of that massive tongue taking turns working its way into both of his holes—not forcing, which was almost worse because it meant that Alucard fully intended to drag this out as much as possible. Another hand appeared between his legs, fingers squeezing at his clit and startling him into cutting a scream short with a yelp. The hand started moving languidly up and down, jerking him off as the tongue stretched him loose—

"You s-scum! Don't—don't fucking _toy_ with me!"

"Ooh, threatening me? With your face covered in tears and snot and puke?" 

Maxwell gritted his teeth.

"But all right. I won't toy with you." Alucard snapped his fingers and that was the only warning Maxwell got.

Both cocks slammed into him at once, knocking the breath out of him and leaving him choking. The hand around his neck tightened. It was like he'd been impaled, hips held quivering in the air, and to his absolute horror it felt...good. The vampire must have worked some magic on him because why else would he possibly even remotely enjoy being treated like this? The hound's drool was a powerful lubricant on its own but he could still tell that he was getting wetter, betrayed by his own body—the fresh shame of it burned all the way up, making him retch again.

"Really? That was just the head. Correction: two heads." Alucard's smile was even wider than before, contorting his face into something decidedly unhuman.

Maxwell's stomach flipped, both with nausea and arousal. This damned flesh! He didn't want more, no, he wanted it to stop, but the fingers still on his clit managed to shock him into a groan. As if that were a signal the twin cocks began shoving deeper inside, alternating their movements so he was forced to register every last thrust, and he could feel himself opening up beneath the onslaught. He tried to brace himself so he could at least lift his head but pain shot down his left arm and his shoulder throbbed anew, bringing fresh tears to his eyes. Moan after moan escaped his throat in time with the thrusting and now he truly was the lowest of the low.

"Y-you win, you've m-made your point," Maxwell stuttered out, voice cracking again. "Let me go."

But Alucard just gazed down at him, fanged grin unchanged. The cocks were bottoming out now, the hound's legs slapping against his own, and his face was beginning to hurt from being held against the hard floor yet it was becoming easier and easier to ignore any discomfort. This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it, not the assault but to be fucked to the point of forgetting his earthly troubles? While Maxwell had managed to get Anderson in his bed it was always on his own terms because that seemed to be the only way the priest would cooperate. He'd long wanted Anderson to take the initiative and be rough with him, hold him down, and if he tried hard enough he could, maybe, imagine that he was finally getting his wish.

Hearing Maxwell murmur in a way that no longer sounded distressed made Alucard visibly perk up; if the vampire had the ears of a cat they'd be at full alert.

"Did I hear you say Anderson?" Alucard cackled. "Why am I not surprised? You Jesus freaks are all the same in the end, repressed and waiting for the first excuse to get your rocks off. No wonder your precious church has so many scandals."

The vampire's voice almost killed the illusion Maxwell had managed to summon but he squeezed his eyes shut and reminded himself that the gloved hand on his neck could be Anderson's—

"This isn't fun if I'm just giving you what you want, though. Let's see.... Can your pet priest do this?"

At first Maxwell couldn't tell what Alucard meant but then the twin cocks deep in him seemed to be growing, swelling in a way that no human could until it felt as though they'd rip him apart—

"Ah, there we go. Those sweet screams again."

Just as he was trying to mentally prepare for excruciating pain the stretching stopped. The hands on his neck and clit let go and the heavy paws on his ankles shifted to the floor, leaving him with no restraint other than the knots plugging him up tight. Could he pull away? The slightest twitch of his hips and he knew the answer.

"Here, let me help you out with that."

The hound started to step backwards, the knots straining at both of his entrances—

"No! Don't—you'll turn me inside out!"

Alucard leered down at him. "But that'd be such a pretty sight. Imagine if I ruined you for your beloved servant. He'd have to use his fists to satisfy you—don't look at me like that. You two smell the same. I thought it was just because of proximity but obviously that's wrong, isn't it?"

God, the idea of Father Anderson fist-deep in him—

The vampire scoffed. "You really are crazy. Leave it to a fucking Catholic to twist anything around to benefit himself."

Suddenly the hound melted away, its cocks deflating and oozing out of him like semen—he knew the feeling—and the black void filling the room collapsed back into Alucard's shadow.

"Give Anderson my...regards."

And with that Alucard vanished, leaving Maxwell shaking on the floor still face down and ass up with his knees locked in place by the adrenaline flooding his veins. Both his holes had to be gaping from the way air moved in and out with each quivering breath, his face burning at the realization, and the worst thing now was that he was still aroused. He'd been on the precipice of orgasm when the vampire lost interest. In a way he was glad he didn't have to live with the knowledge that some unholy spawn had succeeded in making him cum but at the same time this was its own kind of torture, knowing that he'd been brought this close. He'd already been degraded enough. Maybe he should just get it over with so he could try to put the entire thing behind him.

Gingerly he laid down and rolled over, taking care not to put weight on his injured shoulder. Staring at the ceiling he slipped a hand under the waistband of his ruined trousers and rubbed at himself. It wasn't the same. He fished a glove out of one pocket and put it on; if he pretended that Anderson's hand was on him perhaps that would make a difference, and it did but then Alucard's awful grin flashed before his eyes. What if Alucard was right and from now on he wouldn't be satisfied with just Anderson's cock? The priest had called him greedy once before and he'd chosen to interpret it as gentle teasing but some dark part of him knew it hadn't been meant kindly. What would Father Anderson think if he became harder to please?

Maxwell shifted so he was perpendicular to his desk and raised his legs to brace his feet against it, ignoring how the movement smeared his blood on the floor. He'd get some flunky to clean it up under the pretense of having interrogated some Millennium collaborator or, whatever, he'd worry about that later. Now in this new position he could finger himself without aggravating his shoulder. One finger barely registered and as he added more he found himself getting harder at the idea of being so loose, shame coiling heavy in his stomach once more. Sinking a fourth finger deep inside he thought of Anderson's face above his, Anderson's hands on him, _in_ him—orgasm hit him like a punch, coming hard enough that he cried out as he throbbed around his own hand.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there with his vision gone black, breath ragged in his throat raw from bile, but eventually his limbs stopped trembling and his heart slowed. As his pulse quieted disgust rose in its stead. He'd find a way to live with this somehow, the same way he'd found a way to live with all his other sins, yet the gnawing emptiness grew deeper every time. It'd stop when he made it to the mountaintop, surely, and he could look down on those crawling below and be certain that his name would outlive them. It didn't matter what he had to endure because Christ had suffered in the flesh too and he that had suffered in the flesh had ceased from sin. Through suffering, Maxwell knew, he would be made perfect and receive a crown of glory that would never fade.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are always appreciated.


End file.
